Kristin in the Crowd
by Midnitergrl
Summary: When Kristin discovers that she is Dexter's latest target, she needs to get him to understand that he doesn't really want her in that way. A partner would be much more beneficial for both of them. Warning - This is a violent series. There will be blood.
1. Chapter 1

I was never quite sure how he managed it. Not only did he have a fantastic job as a blood splatter analyst, but he managed to get married and convince the chick he loved her. A man with no feelings or dreams managed to live normally. Breathe normally. Be normal. It infuriated me to no end, and I closed _Dexter in the Dark_ without bothering to see what page I had been on. My hair was pulled back into a ponytail and shoved inside a baseball cap, and a white silk mask covered my features. Dexter had some good ideas. I stole the rest from Sweeney Todd.

"Doesn't it get you mad?" I asked the man in front of me. He was probably in his late forties or early fifties. I hadn't bothered to care about that factor. What I did care about was that he had molested two students last semester, and gotten away with murder in San Francisco fourteen years ago. He hadn't been punished, and Dexter was just a character in a novel. And I was bored.

Mr. Carrus, the history teacher at a local university, turned his panicked and dulling eyes towards the sound of my muffled voice. Unfortunately for him he couldn't do anything else. Not even slip out of the noose securing his head to the metallic table top. The rest of his body was tied down with belts, wire and duct tape. I tended to go a little overboard at times. He struggled again and I giggled before shaking my head. "Now, now, that just hurts. I would know. I tried it on myself."

I watched listlessly as his struggling eased into nothing and his chest stopped moving. His fingers gave one last desperate twitch, an afterthought perhaps, before I was the only thing moving in the room. And moving I was. Kristy was as much of an Avenger as Dexter was, even if she didn't have as many resources. Poor Kristy.

As soon as I was quite certain that he was dead I untied him, un gagged him, and gently wiped the blood from his throat. I was almost humming to myself as I pulled his body from the table and let it drop with a thud onto the body bag awaiting it. Now it was off and into the furnace. Or fire. Or giant billowing smoky hole in the floor. Whichever you preferred. As I dragged him towards it I heard a twiddle and my pocket shook. I carefully removed a glove and pulled out the phone.

"Hello?" I asked, pushing the door to the inferno open. A wave of heat assaulted me and I hurried to shove the body in. Then I shut the door and trotted back to the table to get my book.

"Kristy? It's Byron. Where are you? I called your house and your mom said you were out. Weren't we supposed to hang out tonight?" He sounded slightly annoyed, as if we really had made plans. I glanced at the calendar on my phone and chuckled.

"Nope. No plans tonight. Sorry. Actually, I'm kind of busy. I got a new book." Two truths blended together well to form one that would please him. I smiled.

"Liar. Where are you? What are you doing?" Now he sounded angry and…quieter. For some reason there was an echo, and I instantly realized why. He had me on speaker. There was someone else there.

"I honestly don't know why you're so upset. Chill out, okay? I'm reading my new book and listening to quiet." I let an inch of my annoyance creep into my voice, and I knew he would try a different approach. He didn't disappoint me.

"You did it again, didn't you?" The direct approach. For once, Byron wasn't beating around the bush.

"Did what again?" Like the clueless dolt I pretended to be, I flipped open my book and began to thumb through the pages.

"You killed someone else." If time stood still, it didn't register with me. If I was supposed to feel a sense of panic, I didn't. Instead I just turned to a random page in the story and began to read.

"Oh come on, what are you talking about? I'm reading." Honestly I was a little peeved with him. Who did he think he was? He had no right to judge me. Just because he had found out about one little mishap, he never let me take the easy way out of something.

Suddenly, I heard something. Not something in the air or in my little Queasy Bake-Him Oven, but something in my mind. A flutter of dark wings and muffled laughter; my own little Passenger. I smiled and closed the book, then opened my mouth to speak again. This time I got the words from somewhere else.

"Byron, I can understand why you're mad but there isn't any reason to attack me like this. Just calm down, okay? Go hang out with some friends. Do you want u-," I almost slipped. "me to stop by?" I didn't, but I knew it would shut him up. After a few seconds of hushed mumbling on the other line I heard a click and his voice was louder.

"No, don't. I'll come get you. Where are you?"

"I don't like speaker phone, Byron. If you do that again, you won't know anything new." And then I hung up.


	2. Chapter 2

For a long time I didn't know what was wrong with me. I was never afraid of horror movies; instead I laughed at them. Sweeney Todd sent me into a giggling fit. SAW made my imagination soar. The only ones I never liked were the ones that involved something supernatural. Something that couldn't be explained. The movies with the little voice drifting on the wind. Those were the ones that made me squirm.

Yet for some reason, torture didn't. It thrilled me. It gave me a feeling of euphoria that shouldn't come to normal people. Only a few select friends knew about the way I thought. Only a few had heard my longing to set a playground on fire, feed carbonated soda to a bird or feel a person's heart pounding in their chest right before I removed it. Only a select few had heard. And only one understood.

Monty was a person I didn't mess with. Someone I talked to only if help was required. Monty understood, and she introduced me to Dexter. And so, she was like my Harry. I respected her and her own Dark Passenger. I listened and waited; I followed directions. Neither of us wanted to get caught, although my reasoning was on a much larger scale. She simply listened to her Passenger, she didn't follow its directions. I was a vessel and she was a host.

I kept my phone on silent as I finished rereading my book. The crackling and snapping from the fire was a good sign, so I ignored it for the next few hours. Around midnight I finally grabbed the plastic body bag and my oven mitts and opened the furnace door. The fire had died down considerably, and I was able to remove the body without losing my eyebrows in the process. Kristin would become a very noticeable girl if she were missing those pretty little patches of hair.

Much like a crispy corpse was expected to, this one made a strange squishy-crunch as I dropped it down onto the bag. I pulled it away from the oven and towards the table, struggling in vain to get it onto the higher surface. Finally I lowered the table, heaved the body onto it, and then took the time to raise it to waist level again.

Just as I was looking around for my fillet knife, the one I had taken from the kitchen that afternoon, my phone lit up. I sighed and walked towards it, glancing at the screen. Monty was calling me? What the hell was Monty calling me for? My Dark Passenger stirred anxiously, eager to cut into our man-meat. I attempted to calm it down and then answered the call.

"Hello?" I hurried back to the table. It had taken longer than expected to make it well done.

"Are you busy?" I could hear the curiosity, the interest. I could hear the slight longing and revulsion. She was slacking.

"Yeah, sort of. I'm finishing up a project." The knife easily cut through what remained of the fingers and toes and dumped them unceremoniously into a paper bag.

"The one you told me about? You should have been done by now." She was annoyed, as was I. I was slightly disturbing our version of Harry's Law.

"I didn't mean for it to take this long. I'm going as carefully and cleanly as I can while still being able to get home in time." The head was giving me a bit of difficulty. After a few more minutes of polite conversation, I managed to pry it loose. Zipping up the body took seconds, and prying the teeth from the mouth took only a few minutes. I put them in the bag with the little appendages.

"Okay, I'm finished up with this. I've got to go, I'll call you later." My hands moved of their own accord. Cleaning the spots of the floor where blood spilled, washing down the table, emptying what large bits from the oven that didn't burn down, making sure that I touched nothing…

_You're making a large error. _

I paused at the voice, listening to my mentor.

_You're preparing as if they'll find this place. You're not preparing as if they'll find you._

I hear a chuckle and nod, hurrying to leave. I can't be found, because if I am bad things will happen. Bad things like getting caught and missing out on Prom. Thankfully the Mr. Carrus is lighter without a head, and he easily is dumped into the trunk of my minivan. It used to belong to my mom, and then she got a new ride. Unfortunately I feel slighted, and I can't help but let a little angry boil over. My eyes narrow and my fists shake. Then everything is well again and I'm finishing the job and driving towards Lake Okeechobee.

The drive was pleasant enough. Early morning stars twinkled at me through the light pollution. A few stray people walked down empty sidewalks, not bothering to look up from their feet. I drove for a while longer before finally reaching the dock. Then, I tied a dozen or so wires around dear Mr. Carrus' ankles, fixed weights to said ankles and then heaved him into the water. This wasn't a swimming area, not by a long shot. Reptilian beasts would feast on my catch long before anyone even realized the History professor was gone. Yippee.

As I walked back to my van, I allowed myself to glance around. There weren't many cars around. Two had fog covered windows, and the third was simply there. I could see the faint outline of a driver in the front seat, and for a moment I thought I knew him. My Passenger hissed and shrank back. _Go. Leave. NOW! _

I ran the remaining distance.

For the entire drive I doubled back, took side streets, and just about got myself lost in the process. My hands were sweating, and my pulse thrummed in my ears. Who the hell was following me?! I had seen the same, small white car behind me for over an hour. Finally I managed to pull out my calm covering and appear relaxed. I cruised into a neighborhood, picked a house at random, and parked in the driveway. I walked confidently up to the door and rummaged in my pocket as if looking for keys. Finally I pretended to knock on the door and waited. I heard the car pass by, and turned to glance down the street. It was gone. After waiting a few more minutes I walked quietly back to my van, started it up, and drove home. I was getting paranoid.


	3. Chapter 3

I learned long ago that dreams are meaningful, long, detailed, and easily forgotten. As was the case with this one, it slipped out of my grasp as soon as the cheerful screeching of my alarm prodded me to consciousness. My empty blue eyes glared at the mechanical device before I rewarded its praise with a clenched fist, successfully denting it beyond repair. I would have to get a quieter one later on. Last night's endeavors had taken a lot longer than I would have liked, and unfortunately Mr. Carrus had weighed considerably more than I had hoped he would. My arms and legs were sore, my throat itched from left over smoke, and I was completely certain that my shower hadn't rid my hair of the stink of ruined flesh.

Still, I dragged myself from the bed and stumbled towards my closet. A simple black tank top and a pair of jeans were good for Saturdays. Thankfully this was one. As I dressed, I sniffed the air. Someone was up and cooking; bacon and eggs. Possibly toast as well. I hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day, and my stomach reacted accordingly.

"That smells good." I said as I made my way downstairs. Amanda grinned at me from in front of the stove and I grinned back. I had had a pretty good night, food was prepared, and I had no plans. What wasn't there to smile about?

"Glad you think so. Did you have fun last night?" Amanda was cool as far as stepsisters went, so I didn't mind answering her without a bite of sarcasm or my usual early morning wit.

"Yeah, actually we did." My Dark Passenger fluttered nervously in the corners of my mind. We still weren't entirely used to working together, but it was definitely worth it. Still, we sometimes made the mistake of inserting a plural where there should have been a singular. Like now.

"We? Who's we?" Amanda looked up at me with a frown. The spatula suddenly appeared to be heavy in her small, thirteen year old hand and I swiftly removed it from her grasp. Without speaking I made myself a plate and then set the utensil on the counter.

"I said 'me', Amanda. You're losing it girl." The smile was harder to keep now that I didn't feel like using it. But since I was supposed to be being funny, I left it in place. My Passenger hissed a few obscenities at me. I thought back a few of my own.

"You're using bad grammar again." She huffed, rolled her eyes and picked up the spatula. I began to leave the kitchen when-

"Some guy called for you this morning." Her teasing, snide remark made me pause.

"Byron?" I asked, slightly hoping it was.

"Nope. He said his name was Morgan. I told him you were asleep and he hung up." She gave me a smile that I was sure I was supposed to return with a look of older-sibling disgust. I didn't.

"Morgan? You're sure that's what he said?" I frowned and then finally went back upstairs to my room. I didn't know anyone named Morgan.

_Yes, you do. _

_No, I don't. Who the heck is named Morgan?_

_He doesn't go to your school._

_Then how do I know him?_

_He lives in Miami. _

_What the heck are you talking about?! God, just shut up. _

With a small chuckle he obeyed, curling up in the recesses of my subconscious. I locked my door and turned on my computer, setting my plate on the desk beside it. Why couldn't I just be a normal person like Amanda? Why couldn't I just go online to surf around for cute guys or something? Instead, I was pulling up obituaries and newspaper clippings.

While I didn't have the skills Dear Dexter did, I definitely had a few that I taught myself. I couldn't get into police files or anything, but the public got a heck of a lot more than people assumed. After about twenty minutes of appeasing my morbid curiosity, I was able to shut down my internet explorer window, open Itunes, hit play, and lay back on my bed and relax.

I'm not sure how long I lay there listening to Mozart and Chopin. A few times Avril interrupted, but otherwise the classics and I were left alone. Then, suddenly, the phone rang. I turned my head to look at it and then stared back at my ceiling, memorizing the lines and cracks.

"Kristin! Phone!" Jordan's harsh tone slammed through my door with enough force to make me jump. Quickly I grabbed the receiver, waiting until I heard the click on the other end to let me know that he had hung up.

"Yeah, this is Kristin."

"Hello, Kristin. This is Morgan. I assume your sister told you that I had called?"


	4. Chapter 4

I frowned and stretched my free hand. Okay, so apparently this guy was persistant.

"Oh, yeah she did actually. Um, how do I know you? I don't remember a Morgan in any of my classes." I stood and began to tidy up my room. My messenger bags of toys and tricks was hanging proudly behind my door. No one acually looked in my room, ever, and what kind of idiot would go around with the tools of her trade in her purse? Well, a smart kind of idiot. A _me_ kind of idiot.

The guy on the other end was quiet. While I waited for him to answer, I began to clean up my clothes from the previous night. I had washed them once; but only twice would be enough. Morgan still hadn't said anything, so I checked the battery on my headset, switched over to that, and then carried my clothes out of my room and to the laundry room.

"We actually know each other quite well. I'll see you around." And with that, the line went dead. For some reason, those two simple sentances sent my Passenger into a dizzy fit. My mind was spinning by the time I had started the washer, and unfortunately this caused me to run into Jordan.

My stepfather glared down at me, and for a moment I reacted like a normal person. Shock made my eyes grow wide and my mouth part. How come I hadn't heard him? How had I just run into him?

"Morning, Jordan. You look well." I spoke before he did, my first mistake. My second was attempting to leave straight away. I turned, and felt his hand close around my forarm. For an instant, everything was crystal clear. I couldn't hear anything except for the frantic humming of Dark Wings, and a slow steady hiss. Obscenities filled my head and I wanted to spew them at the vile man who thought he had the right to touch me. Instead, I turned seemingly frightened eyes towards him and attempted to pull free.

"Stop wasting water, whore. I know you were out with one of your little boyfriends last night." My disguise faltered for just a moment and I could feel my lips twisting into a sneer. My Passenger swelled within me, and I suppose it showed in my eyes because Jordan suddenly released me and took a step back. His feirce brown eyes looked me over and then he gave a grunt of disgust and let me be.

_Never let your guard down! Ever! Blend! Blend! The Code of Harry!_

I rolled my eyes but followed directions. We had to appear normal after all. But the Code of Harry was more like a set of guidelines I was supposed to follow. It wasn't really rules...was it? I mean, an author had come up with the whole idea. The only reason I had named my little "consience" a Dark Passenger was because I didn't want to give it a real name. I reopened my Internet Explorer as soon as I had relocked myself in my room, and opened my email box.

After scrolling through a few things of spam, I came across one from a person I didn't recognize. I opened the large drawer in my desk and flicked through the stack of papers there. Well, I hadn't signed up for any new science websites. Maybe it was my science teacher or something. I opened it, and suddenly I felt as though I had forgotten to breathe.

_Dear Kristen, _

_You should feel special. Very special. I've taken time out of my busy schedule to get these to you. I know you haven't been in the business long, so I thought I would help you mark this momentous occasion. Attached are a dozen or so pictures for your scrapbook. Or your school paper. I'm sure they have a section for student hobbies, don't they? If not, maybe you could get them to make one. Your hobby is -so- intriguing._

_--Morgan_

I hesitantly clicked on the attached folder, and waited while it transfered to my computer. Once it was open I found that movement was just about impossible. My Dark Passenger was screaming at me but for once I didn't listen. I just waited, calmly, and stared at the pictures. They were all of me. Of places I had been to. I scrolled through the pictures, more aware of the sounds around me than I ever had been before. Finally I reached the last one. I knew this one. It was of me, last night. I appeared calmer on the outside than I previously thought. Then another chilling thought came over me. He was the guy in the car. He -had- followed me.

"Well, shit."

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the photos. This guy had been tailing me for a while, and thought my hobby was interesting. Did that mean he knew what it was that I did? I frowned and finally closed down the file, erased the pictures, then deleted the email. This Morgan guy was weird, but for some reason it didn't set off my internal alarm. Why wasn't I more freaked out? I had a frickin' stalker and here I was just reclining and seemingly waiting for my fate.

"This isn't good. Come on, little man. We're going out." I abruptly stood and grabbed my messenger bag and car keys. I easily slipped out of the house unnoticed, ignoring the screams coming from Jordan and my mom's room. They were always fighting, but I never asked about what. I knew too much about our family's life anyway. After all, that man was the reason that I didn't have my brother or sister. Or my real dad. I glanced in their room's direction as I left the house, then slammed the front door shut behind me.

If people knew me, the real me, they would see nothing wrong with shipping me off and away. I would probably have my own little cell, too. My hands gripped the wheel as I thought about it. My family would be investigated, signs of previous abuse found, a mental break down perhaps? Answers would be sought and fought for, and unfortunately they would come up with a pack of lies.

I wasn't a serial killer killer because someone I knew had been hacked to death with a chain saw while I was in the same crate. I wasn't a serial killer killer because I had sat in inches of blood for three days. I was a serial killer killer because...because I didn't like pain. I heard the laughter building in my head and reached over to turn on the stereo. Green Day? Blech. Well, at least it would quiet things down upstairs. As I pulled up to the red light I leaned back and glanced around at the other drivers.

Their lives were probably about as normal as mine used to be. For the first twelve years of my life I had lived in my semi-psycotic safety bubble. It was the perfect arrangement. Oldest out of three, gifted with enough smarts to let me take dual enrollment, a dog and two loving parents - perfect. And then, then came the drunk driver. An idiot named Jordan Sparks had blown through a red light, spooking an already intoxicated man into smashing headlong into my father's red Toyota truck. Soon that wasn't the only thing that was red. Mom and I got to see them, or rather, we had to identify them. Luckily Mr. Sparks was there to ease her mind and calm her down. Right?

Like any little kid starving for attention, I thought cutting would be a good place to start. I hadn't felt any real emotions for a long time. Ever since I saw the way that a person can fold over in half and kiss their shins without trying, really. But as soon as those scissors started to bite into my leg, my Dark Passenger awakened in a fury. Yes, I wanted to hurt things. Yes, I wanted to see the blood. No, I didn't want to hurt myself. No, I didn't want to see my blood. I started with animals, but I didn't kill them. I just watched blood trickle down and mat their fur. The first death was an accident - a cat that had a lot less blood than I thought. The second one wasn't.

When I was thirteen I killed the neighbor's German Shepard. It was a beast of an animal, and it had actually attacked my brother once when he was alive. So one night, I crept into the yard where it slept, slipped a plastic bag over its head and dragged its limp form back to my house. Then in the stillness of the night, following the urgent directions of my consience, I disected my first creature.

Cleaning up after it was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Considering all of the police shows I had watched already, I knew what to look for and what to get rid of. I honestly don't remember what I did with its remains. I do remember that the woman moved shorty after the event. Mom and Jordan were officially married a year after that, and we moved from Fort Peirce to Fort Lauderdale. Then we got a nice house, I got a nice step sister, and I found that people are not nicer when you track them down and get to know them.

The light changed to green and I pulled down a side street towards the mall. I was craving again, craving a crowd. Craving the feeling of oneness a person could get from all of those bodies knit so closely together. Crowds were safe, secure sites. People didn't expect a person like me to wander in amongst them. They didn't expect a person like me to fit in their ranks. Crowds were good, because their dim witted chatter kept things at bay. Or rather, a thing.

I pulled into the parking lot and cruised around for a while, searching aimlessly for any open space. I found one nearer to the entrance that any I had ever found before and quickly overtook it. I sat in the silent vehicle, the key firmly clenched in my fist. Kristen was just another face in the crowd. Another pair of feet echoing down polished walk ways. Kristen was just another highschool senior. I wasn't.

A burst of frigid mall air assaulted me as soon as I walked through the doors. My skin puckered into goose bumps instantly, and I rubbed my arms to make them go back to normal. No one really glanced my way. Kristin was a fantastic disguise. A slim, medium hight girl. Straight, naturally brown hair. Pale skin, dark clothes. Completely and utterly normal. Although, Kristin was probably too normal to be hearing the angry whispers that blossomed in my mind. I wished I could be this Kristin all the time.

FYE was only a few stores from the doors I had come through, so I made my way there and listened. Listened to the conversations between customers and staff. Listened to the pointless CD demos. Listened and watched. I always watched because it was habit. I listened because it was habit. Sometimes I learned more from my habits than I did from Google. After awhile of mindless chatter I departed to my next haunt. And then my next. And then the next. I entered and exited every store, smiling when neccesary and frowning when appropriate. I was a good little wolf and most of the sheep didn't even notice me.

Some of them did.

Children, escpecially young children, always seemed to know that I wasn't quite as _normal_ as their parents were teaching them to be. As I walked into Hallmark, I felt something bump against me. I turned and looked to find a young boy staring curiously up at me. He looked to be at most twelve or thirteen, but something in his eyes gave him an almost Elder, feral look. His eyes widened and suddenly I felt my Passenger rising up to meet something else. I wanted to back away and pull closer. I could see it in him. His Shadow. His Passenger. I wasn't alone? I stared at him and finally he nodded and walked away, almost running to join up with his mother and what appeared to be his older sister. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, and for a moment I wondered what he was saying. Then I decided it was unimportant. If he wanted to gossip, I would let him. Gossiping wasn't a punishable sin. At least, not one that I dealt with.


	5. Update

_**Update: **Sorry about this everyone! I know some of you have already sent in reviews and such for this story before, and I appologize. I accidentally deleted it from my stories list. Thankfully I still had the documents saved, so I was able to put it back up as soon as it came down. I'm really, really sorry. Please continue to read. _


End file.
